


Back on the Road

by xianvar



Series: June Special: Bingo [7]
Category: The Bright Sessions (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Ending, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Road Trips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-08
Updated: 2017-07-08
Packaged: 2018-11-21 15:52:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11360643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xianvar/pseuds/xianvar
Summary: “I mean, I got it and then I used it to hunt it down and then when we heard from you I left it outside and it got rained on, so technically, I don’t really currently have a red convertible, but I could totally get another one. I mean, it’s not like they’re running out, and--”“Sam,” Mark says, cutting her off. He’s stepped closer, close enough he can put his hands on her arms. She does indeed shut up and looks at him, concentrating on breathing. When she looks at where he’s touching her, she isn’t even flickering. “I think it sounds like a pretty good plan.”





	Back on the Road

**Author's Note:**

> I'm preeeetty sure I got the title from somewhere, but I have literally no clue where from? *looks at how generic this is* or maybe I didn't get it from a song... The dangers when you're saving your draft for a week before posting it ^^
> 
> Written for the FFFC June Mini Bingo.

“We should just go,” Sam says. “Just—head out. See the world. We’d sure be safer on the road than we are here.”

Mark hesitates, the shadows in his eyes darkening his whole face.

“Get in the car. Damien can’t get us if he doesn’t know where we are, and—and if we just don’t tell anybody where we’re going—hell, if _we_ don’t know were we’re going, he’ll have no chance of following us.”

Reluctance is etched into every line of Mark’s body, written in the clench of his hands around his phone.

“I even got a red convertible. Which—your sister, she said that would be the car you’d go for.” This at least gets a chuckle from him, along with a rueful inclination of his head.

“She’d probably be right, too.”

“I mean, I got it and then I used it to hunt it down and then when we heard from you I left it outside and it got rained on, so technically, I don’t _really_ currently have a red convertible, but I could totally get another one. I mean, it’s not like they’re running out, and--”

“Sam,” Mark says, cutting her off. He’s stepped closer, close enough he can put his hands on her arms. She does indeed shut up and looks at him, concentrating on breathing. When she looks at where he’s touching her, she isn’t even flickering. “I think it sounds like a pretty good plan.”

She can tell from the look on his face that he means it—at least in a cognitive sort of way. But the irrational fear that guides his hesitance—that she knows quite well. And she knows that knowing it’s irrational doesn’t really help.

“That’s—thanks.”

He smiles at her, warm and almost open. “Time on the road might just do us both good.”

~*~

They do replace the red convertible she’d been using to look for Mark. For one, the rain has done quite a number on it (and she hasn’t yet felt the need to get it repaired), and for another—well, there are quite a few memories attached to it. Mainly of long, lonely stretches of road, of recording her thoughts for Mark, of flickering in and out of the present.

She doesn’t really need the memories following them when what they’re doing is basically running away from their reality. Also, there is audible evidence of the other thing, of her thoughts for Mark.

She suggests the canary yellow Porsche 911, “you know, like the one that girl from Twilight has?” and Mark’s scandalized look is totally worth the light punch that goes along with it.

They settle on a sleek black convertible in the end, one that guzzles a little less gas than the one she had had before, but that’s really only an afterthought. It’s not like she doesn’t have the money to spare.

There is still the matter of packing some stuff, but she’s had some practice with that, and Mark doesn’t really have a lot of things.

“I lost a bunch of weight,” he’d told her when she’d seen the vast emptiness of his wardrobe. “I haven’t yet had the chance to get some more stuff.”

“I think we’ll need to change that,” she’d said, and smiled at the conflicting emotions on his face. They’d have enough time and places to get awesome stuff from on their road trip, after all—some place in America had to have clothes that Mark liked.

With the necessities packed into the trunk of the car—surprisingly spacious for a sports car—the only thing left is to bide their goodbyes.

Call her paranoid, buts she insists on leaving the car at home, because “I think it would be suspicious. It’s probably better to take public transport.”

“But if we do so, the chance to run into him is significantly greater,” Mark argues, and she cedes the point.

In the end, they have Joan and Chloe meet them at a café quite a ways away from the places they usually frequent.

It’s a small and cozy little place with a storefront made of glass, allowing them to watch the passersby even from the furthest corners. Sam doesn’t truly think that Damien will follow Joan and Chloe, but these days she firmly believes in ‘better safe than sorry.’

If they’ve learned one thing, it’s that they shouldn’t underestimate Damien.

But there seems to be nothing out of the ordinary when the two woman approach, together and deep in conversation from the looks of it.

“That’s not a normal psychologist-patient relationship you lot have going with my sis,” Mark comments, stirring his coffee almost absentmindedly.

Sam raises an eyebrow at him, and even though he isn’t looking at her directly, he smiles. “And you’ve only realized that now?”

He shrugs. “It just—it strikes me anew every time I see you lot interact.”

“I don’t think you can have a proper professional relationship when your patients can read your thoughts and emotions.” She bites the inside of her cheek as she thinks. “Or when your patient is the only one who can rescue your brother out of a two-year-long coma.”

He looks up at that, his smile involuntary and real, and for a moment she feels like they’re back in 1810, just the two of them, talking about everything and sometimes nothing.

The moment is shattered by the scrape of a chair, and Sam looks up into the amused face of Joan and a smirk on Chloe’s face that makes her blush harder than she ever has, probably. They each have a cup of coffee already, which explains why she and Mark got as much time to talk as they did.

“You two are seriously so sappy,” Chloe says and takes her seat, while Joan shakes her head and does the same.

“Don’t tell me, there are things I do not want to know about my brother.”

Chloe and Mark laugh, while Sam fights the urge to bury her face in her hands.

“Not even like that!” Chloe grins, and Sam isn’t sure whether she’s making things worse or better right then. “Just—they’re seriously the sappiest people I’ve seen in a while.”

 _Even with the dark corners threatening to overwhelm our minds?_ Sam wonders, but doesn’t say aloud. Chloe’s face softens at that, but she thankfully doesn’t relay the thought out loud.

“So,” Joan says, stirring sugar into her coffee. “Why did you wanna see us here?”

Sam swallows and looks at Mark, unsure all of a sudden how to tell Joan that they were basically abandoning them and leaving them at Damien’s mercy.

Chloe scoffed. “I think we’re a lot better equipped to deal with him if you’re not in reach,” she says, and Joan’s face lights up in understanding only a moment later, though there is still some of the confusion left.

“Mark and I intend to go on a road trip,” Sam says, mostly for Joan’s benefit. “We’re not even sure where we’re going yet, which is probably the best defense against Damien.”

Joan smiles in understanding. “That’s a good point. You replaced the car?”

“Yeah, I figured a new one would be better. The only sad thing is that it’s not actually red.”

Mark chuckles and takes her hand, which distracts her for a long moment.

“From what I’ve heard you’ve spent quite enough time in that car.” His thumb rubs small circles into the back of her hand, which is at once reassuring and makes her heart race worse than ever.

“A fresh start might do you both good. Any plans for how long you’ll stay gone?”

Sam shrugs. “Not really. We’re just—planning to take it day by day. See where the road takes us and all that jive.”

“Then I hope you have a lot of fun. Maybe call us every once in a while?”

“You got it, sis,” Mark says, but Sam is hardly paying any attention any more, instead looking at Sam, who has been rather quiet during the conversation.

“I’m all right,” Chloe says. “I mean, I’ll definitely miss you, but I _know_ how much you want to get away from all of this. Not that I can fault you. It’s been a rough time. So… I’m with Doctor Bright. Enjoy your trip, take some pictures, and don’t come home until you’re ready or something like that. We’ll be fine. We can deal with him.”

Sam swallows and darts a look at Mark.

“There’s—I have a safe house, should you need it. I’m loathe to tell any of you the address, other than Chloe—it’s not that I trust you, it’s—it’s just—”

“It’s just that we can’t trust Damien,” Joan finishes her sentence, a resigned tone in her voice. “You’re right of course. I guess I’ll go wash my hands for a moment, okay?”

“I don’t think that’s necessary,” Chloe says, and, _oh, of course_.

“You got the address?”

“Yes, I’m pretty sure I can find it if necessary. You shouldn’t worry about us. We’ll be safe.”

Sam tries to smile as though she believes it, but she can feel the anxiety creep up her spine.

“We’ll be _fine_ , Sam,” Chloe repeats.

“Remember the breathing exercises,” Joan says, and when Sam looks at her, she at least has the decency to look a bit abashed. “I’m sorry, old habits die hard. But it looked like you started flickering there for a moment.”

The smile feels a lot more real this time. “Thanks, it’s—I do appreciate it. Sometimes.”

“Well,” Mark says, his tone more playful than he probably feels. “At least Italy would probably have been sunny.”

Which, right, Chloe was close enough for him to be a mind reader, too.

Yes, she was indeed looking forward to time on the road—which did inevitably mean time away from people.

~*~

They set off towards the east in the early hours of the next day, tank full and back seat filled with some snacks, following the just emerging sun.

And Sam can feel herself getting calmer and calmer with each kilometer they put between themselves and Damien, Mark’s hands loose around the wheel, his whole posture relaxed.

They would be fine—and hopefully, the whole thing with Damien would have blown over by the time they got back.


End file.
